


Drowning Narcissus

by Arcadias_Fire



Series: Narcissus Rising [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bloodplay, Dark, M/M, Magic, Mythology - Freeform, Power Dynamics, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcadias_Fire/pseuds/Arcadias_Fire
Summary: “You are my avatar, my priest, and have been since before you were born, Thomas William Hiddleston. I created you to be me.”“That’s ridiculous.”Loki grinned. “Is it?”“You’re not real.”“Am I not? Just because humans have forgotten the gods does not mean we ceased to exist.”





	1. Black No. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT the same Tom & Loki as in the Finding Mischief universe (if you've read my other stuff), but I’m obsessed with the pairing, so… yeah. The story - what there is of it - takes place between approximately 2008 and 2014 in Earth’s timeline.
> 
> This is a weird hybrid “songfic”. Often the songs are relevant to the overall story in addition the specific chapter, but it isn't a songfic in the traditional sense, which is why I didn't tag it as such.

 

 

When he looked back on it years later, Tom thought that it might have begun the day they dyed his hair. Loki denied this up and down, claiming he'd always known, that it had always been there, but that was the first time Tom noticed. 

 

The lovely make-up crew, always pleasant to be with - except for at 3:00 AM, when  _ nothing _ was pleasant - giggled collectively at what they were supposed to do to his hair. 

 

“Why not just use a wig then?” he asked, but no, that wouldn't do. Ken wanted more realism. They were creating a fantasy and they had to make it as true as possible. So they dyed his hair black and straightened it. 

 

He gazed into the mirror after they were done. It was… striking. He looked washed out, pale even without makeup. He'd lost weight for the part so his cheeks were slightly hollow. For a split second, he couldn't help but compare himself to Chris - all golden blond, bronze skin, and muscle - and find himself lacking. His expression changed without thinking it to one of discontent. Subtle, complex, a look that said “I will never be good enough”. It looked at home on this altered face in a way it didn't on his own - his usual face, he hastened to remind himself, this was still him. But on the pale, sallow reflection that stared back at him now, it was perfect. 

 

One of the girls who’d worked on his hair came up to his side and brushed aside a strand of freshly blackened hair. “I’m not sure you look evil enough.”

 

He laughed and leaned over menacingly, an angry look on his face. She was barely over five feet tall, so he loomed over her. 

 

“Okay, I take it back, you’re evil!” 

 

He laughed again. 

 

She giggled, but looked a bit nervous as she walked away. 

 

Tom looked back to the mirror and pulled on a mask of indifference. Bored, haughty, untouchable. That was perfect, too. With the hair, Loki had slid under his skin, making himself a home. 

 

It was years before he realized how true that was.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Black No. 1" is by Type O Negative.


	2. All the Love in the World

 

There are many kinds of actors. Some can slide into roles without thought, lines falling from their lips with natural simplicity. Some dig into their characters, probing for deep motivations, needing to know what makes that character - man, woman, alien, whatever - tick. Still others become their character so deeply they can barely look up without seeing through that character's eyes. Tom was in the second camp, though he occasionally slipped into the third.

 

He realized, over time, that most people’s primary motivation was love. The truest stories had love at their core, whether it be love of a parent, sibling, lover, or even the self. Love was the most important thing a human could experience. It also made non-humans human, believable, relatable.  

 

A woman at a Con once asked him what he would say to Loki if he ever met him. It was an odd question, but he had an answer. He would tell the god that he was loved. There was a collective “aww” from the audience, and the panel moved on.

 

That night he had a dream that he spoke to Loki.

 

“You say that I am loved, mortal. By whom, do you think?”

 

Tom hadn’t _said_ anything; Loki brought it up like he’d been listening from the crowd. “A lot of people now,” he replied.

 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Your legions of fangirls do not count. They are yours, not mine.”

 

“I’d argue with that. I wasn’t really anything before you.” It was true. He’d been a mid-level actor before _Thor_. So had Chris, and it was something that they’d experienced together, that shot upwards into fame. It was intoxicating and unnerving, but he was so grateful.

 

“You have never been without me.” Loki leaned forward and looked at Tom with an odd intensity. “I have always lived in your soul.”

 

Tom blinked. “I never… what do you mean?”

 

“You are my avatar, my priest, and have been since before you were born, Thomas William Hiddleston. I created you to be me.”

 

“That’s ridiculous.”

 

Loki grinned. “Is it?”

 

“You’re not real.”

 

“Am I not? Just because humans have forgotten the gods does not mean we ceased to exist.” Loki stood and his image changed to a red-haired man, with eyes of burning coals and hair like dancing flame. “Just because you do not comprehend does not mean that there is no truth to what I say.” He still spoke with Tom’s voice, though there was a growling crackle to it, as of  wood burning in a fire.

 

“I…”

 

“Be silent, mortal. In time, you will understand.” The god leaned into him, and Tom froze, unable to move. Loki’s visage changed back to his own, raven haired and pale. They stood nose to nose. “You are not ready. It was an error to see you now.”

 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Tom said. He had, though he never thought he’d get the chance.

 

“I know this; it is why I came. But you are not ready for me yet. You must forget this.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

Loki smiled. It made Tom shiver. “That is good. So good. You will be ready for me soon enough, and then you will remember.”

 

And Loki kissed him.

 

Tom woke up with no memory of his dreams.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "All the Love in the World" is by Nine Inch Nails


	3. My Name is Ruin

 

It was a mad idea, but brilliant. The head to toe armor was uncomfortable and hot, but then again, so were all of his costumes these days. No one gave him more than a second look with the helmet though. He was just another cosplayer in a sea of them, black visor hiding his face, which every person here could easily recognize. It wasn’t until he got to the dressing room that he peeled out of the Mandalorian armor and pulled on a different and much more familiar set of armor. 

 

It went almost perfectly. It was just ridiculous enough that he nearly broke character a few times. But then… then…

 

_ Say my name. _

 

“Say my name,” he repeated the words whispered in his head. 

 

The crowded chanted back. 

 

_ Again.  _

 

“Say my name.” A quick flip of his hand encouraged the throng. 

 

_ Again. _ It was stronger this time.

 

“Say my name.” 

 

The crowd was practically screaming now.

 

He shouted of his own volition this time. “Say my name!” 

 

**_“LOKI!!!”_ **

 

Something in his mind slid into place with an audible click. “It appears I have an army.” 

  
  


o0o

  
  


His hands shook as he peeled away his armor and tore off the wig. He looked up to the mirror and for a brief second saw two reflections; Loki stood over his shoulder. 

 

_ Well done. _

 

He shook his head and the double image was gone and he was just Tom again. 

 

“Pull it together. You have interviews to do.”

 

Luckily the interviews were easy; the same handful of questions over and over again. It seemed to him that any agitation he felt came across as nerves from being in such an unusual situation, the difficulty of improvising a character he’d only played on the screen. 

 

But he couldn’t shake that image from his mind, Loki in the mirror, standing at his shoulder.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My Name is Ruin" is by Gary Newman. 
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter was basically inevitable.


	4. Like a Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SDCC continues.

 

Tom went to the dance that evening, hoping to lose himself in the music. It worked up until a point. There were just too many people around. A feeling continued to creep up on him, no matter how he tried to distract himself. Like there was someone just behind him, standing  _ right _ behind him. Sometimes there was, when he turned to look - some random dancer who was of no consequence - but most of the time there wasn’t even that. 

 

When he finally went back to his room - alone, despite several, if he was honest  _ many _ , offers - he collapsed exhausted onto the bed. He still felt like there was someone else in the room with him. 

 

He stared at the ceiling. “Are you here?”

 

“Of course.” 

 

Tom sprang to his feet, a bolt of terror coursing through him. He looked around wildly. There wasn’t anyone else in the room, but… 

 

In the chair by the window say a shadow.  _ Shadows don’t sit! _ But there it was.

 

“What? Who?”

 

The shadow got to his feet with a phantom creak and jingle of armor. “You know the answer to that, mortal.” 

 

“L...Loki?” 

 

The shadow solidified into a mirror visage of himself garbed in green and black. Not the costume from before, but something similar. “Well met, Thomas. My avatar. You are ready for me now.” 

 

Tom took a stumbling step backwards, then forwards again. His body wanted to flee in terror but also to hurl himself at the god’s feet in veneration. It tried to do both at once, and he toppled back onto the bed. 

 

“How?” 

 

Loki stepped towards him. “Remember.” He leaned over and touched Tom’s face with icy, scorching fingertips. “Remember.” 

 

And he did. 

 

Tom remembered falling out of a tree as a small boy and being caught by some invisible force which lowered him gentle to the ground unharmed. He remembered the pretty ginger girl from another school who’d suggested he try out for a play when he was a young teen. He remembered going to see  _ Iron Man _ in Sweden, and a silent voice in his head urging him to talk to Ken afterwards. That same voice - with a hint of laughter - telling him to try out for Thor. 

 

When he was cast as Loki, the voice was no longer laughing. It sang to him. 

 

And while they filmed, each night he dreamed. Brilliant dazzling, captivating nighttime visions which germinated in his subconscious and burst forth into his performances. Into the character. 

 

He remembered the press of lips on his own. Cool. Burning.

 

“Loki.” He breathed the god’s name like a prayer. Perhaps it was. Loki looked down at him and smiled. 

 

“I’m here.” The god’s voice was sweet and dark in Tom’s ear. 

 

“How can you be? You’ve… you’ve never been here before. Not physically. Only in my mind.”

 

“The power you raised allowed me to come to you, to fully manifest in your realm.” 

 

Tom frowned. “Power?”

 

Loki nodded and brushed his fingertips along Tom’s cheekbone. “In the hall below.” 

 

Tom’s eyes widened. “Your name. You wanted me to have them chant your name.”

 

The god smiled. “Yes.” 

 

“They were… you used their... passion?”

 

“Their passion, their devotion, the chaos of the emotions surging within them. Yes.” Loki’s smile turned into an inhumanly wide grin. “So much energy usually goes to waste. You channelled it for me. This is why I need you, my priest. You’ve done so well for me.” He ran his fingers down Tom’s jaw to his neck. “You deserve a reward for your services.”

 

Tom shivered at the touch and the promise of the god’s voice. “Do I?” His breath caught as Loki’s nails scraped deliciously against the skin of his throat. 

 

“Oh yes.” 

 

Loki’s lips were hot against his. Nothing seemed more natural than to open his mouth to the god’s tongue. To tangle his fingers in Loki’s silky, ink-black locks and pull him closer. Pull him down so that they were chest to chest, Loki full a top him. Hot and cold, hard. And infinitely soft. 

 

It felt like his body had been crafted for this moment, and this moment only. 

 

And when he screamed Loki’s name as the god fucked him into the mattress, that, too, was a prayer. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the Madonna song. I'm not sorry.


	5. Sweet Dreams

 

Whatever strength Loki’d gained from the “Hall H” incident seemed to have waned; the god did not appear in person again. Most nights, though, Tom dreamed of Loki.  

 

Tom spent all his time on the road these days, traveling from city to city for the promotional tour. He felt the eyes of thousands on his skin. He went out of his way to be kind to everyone; it wasn’t so long ago that he might have been on the other side of the velvet rope, right there with these fans. Their passion was a little unnerving, but Tom thought of Loki and the intensity drained away. In the back of his mind, he could almost see the god, looking down on him from a dark, golden place, drinking down their emotion like wine.

 

Any night he slept alone, Loki came to his dreams. The god made love to him deep in his mind. It was real enough that he would awake sticky and sated, throat raw from crying out in his sleep. He was glad that Loki left him be if he had a guest for the night - which didn’t happen often, given their schedule - since he didn’t think he could explain that he was being used by a god in his dreams. Exquisitely, horrifically, beautifully used.  

 

Part of Tom wondered if there was something wrong with him, that his mates would think he was mental. Then again, who were they to judge?

 

Unfortunately, it was exhausting. As relaxing as it might be in the moment, being fucked by a god was extremely tiring, even if it was while he was asleep. He found himself napping in cars while he was being ferried places for interviews and even while he sat in waiting rooms. Luckily Loki left him alone during these brief naps. _That_ was not something Tom was prepared to explain. He’d had a long chat with the god about airplanes, so Loki accepted that being surrounded by people in a small metal tube was not the best time to “reward” his avatar. Sleeping on planes offered little rest, so Tom spend most of his time utterly, completely exhausted.

 

On one level, Tom thought it would be nice to have something simple. Normal. But he was just so tired...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, "Sweet Dreams" by Eurythmics. I'm old.


	6. TimeKiller

 

Tom opened his eyes in his dreams to see what looked like the interior of a spartan church or temple. The floor was stone, and there were no pews, just a large altar in the center. Unlike the churches he’d been in, the altar was marble, not wood. He shivered in the chill and wrapped his arms around his bare torso. 

 

_ Oh. _ He was already naked. That did not speak well for Loki’s intentions. 

 

Tom looked around for any sign of his god. “Loki?” 

 

_ Approach the altar, my priest. _ Loki’s voice echoed around the space, expanding into the recesses of Tom’s mind. 

 

Cautiously, Tom approached to the marble slab. It was black, veined with dark green and gold - entirely appropriate - waist-high and just about the perfect size for a person to lay on…

 

Tom’s voice shook as he spoke. “Are you going to sacrifice me?”  

 

Loki’s laughter rang out and enveloped Tom’s exposed body like warm silk.  _ No, my priest. That would be a terrible waste. _

 

The human breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay.” He put his hands on the cool stone. “What do you want me to do?”

 

The god appeared across from him, clothed only his long black hair, holding a stone knife of black and iridescent gold. “Focus. Focus on being  _ me.” _

 

The actor closed his eyes, altered his bearing, expression, sliding his mind into the space where he was Loki. When he opened his eyes again, the god was grinning at him. 

 

“You are so perfect, my avatar.” Loki reached across the altar and brushed his fingertips along Tom’s jaw. “So beautiful.” 

 

Tom gave the god a flawless “Loki” smile. The other returned the it, took Tom’s hand in his own, then slashed each of their palms with a single stroke of the obsidian blade. Tom hissed as blood welled up from both wounds. Loki place his hand over Tom’s and mingled their blood.

 

The human looked at the god, wide eyed and shaking. “Why?”

 

Loki flipped their hands and pulled his away, crimson dripping between them. Tom’s palm tingled and the blood drained into Loki’s hand, leaving only a faint line behind on his hand. The god stirred the blood with the tip of his knife, then held his hand out to the human. “Drink.”

 

“What?”

 

“You are not a fool. Drink the blood.” 

 

Tom stared at the scarlet pool, fascinated and repulsed. Cautiously, he took Loki’s hand, brought it to his mouth, and licked the blood from his palm. It tasted of copper and ice and burned his lips. He shuddered as a wave of disorientation flowed through him. He was dizzy, nauseated, but was terribly, suddenly aroused. 

 

Loki saw all of this. The god took his hand back and rubbed it over his own heart. A trail of crimson streaked bright against the god’s white, white skin. Loki cleaned the remainder of the blood off his hand with cat-like licks and grinned at the actor with blood-stained teeth. 

 

Tom stared at the red on the god’s chest. It glowed like a ruby held up to the light, pulsed in his awareness like a beacon. 

 

It was everything. Nothing mattered other than that crimson stain against the snow of Loki's skin. Tom climbed onto the altar and knelt before the the god. “Please?”

 

Loki's smile grew wider and the god nodded. Tom leaned in and began to lick the rubies off Loki's chest. Each sweep of his tongue set his own blood on fire, blasted the walls of his mind out and down. Loki groaned under these ministrations, gripped Tom's shoulder and hip with bruising fingers, threw his head back and moaned. 

 

Once Loki was clean, the human having chased the last trickle down his stomach, the god pulled Tom from the altar until they were a tangle of limbs on the floor. Red, wet kisses passed between them as Tom’s blood sang with Loki’s magic. He felt himself melt into the god,  _ become _ him with every beat of his heart, every touch of his hands. Loki was speaking a liquid, lyric language that flowed through Tom’s mind. Though he didn’t understand what the worlds meant, they sang to him, calmed him, energized him, burned in his ears, mind, and blood. 

 

Loki seemed to tire of the floor though, and draped the human face across the altar. Held him down and fucked him until he screamed the god’s name. Over and over. 

 

Tom awoke. 

 

He was still sticky, his throat raw, and blissed out beyond anything he’d ever experienced. 

 

But he wasn’t tired at all. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "TimeKiller" is by Project Pitchfork, though I actually like the cover by And One better.
> 
> This may be the single most appropriate song for the work as a whole.


	7. Genghis Khan

 

Over the years, Tom had noticed a depressing trend of his relationships never lasting more than a few months. Yes, there had been exceptions, but for the most part, things just… died. 

 

When he’d been travelling with Chris and his brother in Australia, he’d met an odd little girl - her older brother was a friend of Liam’s - who said the strangest thing to him. She’d said his heart was bound. She was only nine or so, but she was a fae little thing with large violet eyes that seemed to look right through him. 

 

Tom thought about the encounter years later, after Loki revealed himself. Something about that little girl - what was her name? something unusual - reminded him of Loki. A strange energy that clung to their forms, just beyond perception. 

 

He’d just gone through a particularly painful breakup and was drowning his sorrows with tequila shots - not his favorite, but excellent for getting pissed. He was alone in his flat, just him and his agave poison, when Loki appeared before him sitting casually on the other end of Tom’s sofa. 

 

He was drunk and upset and the words tumbled out of him before he could stop them. “Are you responsible for this?” 

 

Loki’s eyebrows shot up. “For you being inebriated? No indeed.” 

 

“No.” The word slurred out of his mouth. “No, why… why it never works out for me.” 

 

The god leaned forward, an odd smile on his face. “You believe that you have never found love because of  _ my _ influence? Do you think me so petty as to keep you from happiness? Or is it more likely that your heart is fickle and you throw yourself at these women without considering through the consequences?” 

 

Tom flinched away and covered his face with his hands. “I… I don’t mean to…”

 

“Or perhaps the chaos in your soul is such that you cannot be satisfied with something so simple as romance.” Scorn dripped from Loki’s lips. “You pretend that you wish to have a princess on your arm, but that cannot quench your longings. You need more and cannot admit that to yourself or to others. Or perhaps... “ Loki’s eyes swept over him and his tone grew warm. “Or perhaps I am the jealous god you think me to be, and I cannot stand to see you in the arms of another for long.” 

 

Tom blinked in surprise. “I… Which is it?” 

 

Loki shrugged and his expression fell back to neutrality. “Perhaps all of those. Or none. Why do you think this was my doing?” 

 

Tom explained about the little Australian girl from years back. “She said my heart was surrounded by chains and that they were tethered to something outside of myself.” 

 

Loki blinked at him then  _ looked _ . Tom felt like the god was looking into him, not at him. Loki let out a small huff of surprise. “She was right.” 

 

“What?” Tom's mouth dropped open. “What does that mean?” 

 

“I do not know yet. You  _ are _ bound, but the chain reaches through dimensions I cannot fathom.” 

 

“So I'm not bound to you?” Tom's voice cracked. 

 

Loki hummed, head cocked to the side, still staring through the human. “I did not say that.” 

 

“But…” 

 

“I must investigate this.” Loki got to his feet. He looked down at Tom. “I do not care for anyone interfering with what is mine.” 

 

“I'm confused.” 

 

“As am I, my priest.” Loki leaned down and brushed Tom’s lips with his own. “I shall return.” Loki vanished. 

 

“I'm still too sober for this,” Tom muttered to himself and reached, once more, for the tequila. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Genghis Khan" is by Miike Snow. If you haven't watched the video, go look it up on YouTube. Just do it. You'll thank me later.


	8. Only

Six months passed for Tom with no sign of Loki. Six months since he'd woken with one of the worst hangovers of his life to find that not only did he no longer have a girlfriend, he could no longer feel Loki lurking in the back of his mind. 

 

It wasn't until it was gone that he recognised that the feeling had been there at all. There had been an ever-present buzz just beyond his normal senses. Now his mind felt… empty.

 

After awhile he started to convince himself he’d made Loki up entirely. That this empty feeling was due to his love life, or some unrealized ambition he couldn’t quite remember. 

 

Or he was mad. 

 

It amounted to the same thing, really. 

 

He continued on. If his mates noted that he was acting strangely, they either put it down to the spectacular breakup or ignored it. In reality, he crept like a wounded animal about his own life. He’d lost a limb that no one could see was missing. He had lost his grasp on everything, fuzzing at the edges. 

 

Tom put up a facade of indifference and professionalism, but inside… 

 

Inside he had given up. He didn’t care anymore. Loki wasn’t real. Tom wasn’t real.  _ Nothing _ was real. He was so alone. 

 

He recognized in faint, vague way that most people felt like this all the time. They had never had a god in their minds, they didn’t know what it was like to  _ know _ that there was always someone there.

 

Now it was only him. 

 

Tom. 

 

Singular. 

 

Alone. 

 

Only. 

 

He drank himself to sleep every night, worked himself half to death every day. If he didn’t do these things, he couldn’t sleep at all. He  _ ached. _

 

One day, he just didn’t get up. 

 

He lay in bed, ignored his mobile, stared at the ceiling. He didn’t eat. Could barely drag himself to the loo. It didn’t matter. 

 

Nothing mattered. Nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Only" is by Nine Inch Nails (I really like them, as you can tell). 
> 
> Poor Tom...


	9. ...Ready for It

 

He lay on a beach. Sunglasses covered his eyes and a towel lay under his back to keep the burning sands away from his skin. He sipped at an icy, horrifically alcoholic drink and wondered how he’d gotten here. 

 

It didn’t matter, really. 

 

But it itched at him. Had he decided to take a holiday? That seemed unlikely given that work was one of the only things that helped him sleep. The scent of an unfamiliar ocean washed over him, and he took another sip of his drink. 

 

No. It really didn’t matter. 

 

He lay there forever, letting the alcohol wash away the pain along with the waves. 

 

It didn’t work. The pain wasn’t going anywhere. 

 

A shadow fell over him, roughly human shaped. He  struggled to look up past the shadow to see what cast it, but after a few slow moments, he managed.

 

“Loki?” 

 

“Oh my priest, what have you done to yourself?” The god crouched in the sand beside him, an unreadable expression on his face. 

 

Tom curled up on his side, facing away from the shadow-god that loomed over him.“You’re not real.” The sob in his voice made him realize he had started crying. “Leave me alone.” 

 

“I had thought we were past all that.” Exasperation tinged Loki’s soft voice. 

 

“I made you up. You’re not real.” 

 

The god sighed. “Is that easier for you?”

 

“What?”

 

“Is it better to believe yourself mad than alone?” 

 

“I am alone.”

 

“My dearest priest, you are not. You need only take my hand, and I shall once again be with you.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

Loki sighed heavily. “You must accept me. You have never been given the choice, but now you have it. If you take my hand you shall never suffer like this again. We will be bound forever.” 

 

Tom rolled onto his back. The god’s form looked incongruous against the tropical blue sky, his black leather and green silk stark against the pale sand. An alabaster hand reached out to the human, open and accepting. 

 

Asking. 

 

Begging. 

 

“You left me,” Tom wailed. “I wasn’t…” 

 

Loki looked down and away. “I did what had to be done.” 

 

There was no apology there, but it was probably the closest Tom was going to get.  

 

“What would I be agreeing to?”

 

“You will officially acknowledge to the position you’ve always had. You will consent to being my priest and avatar in this world, with all that entails. I shall never leave you again.” 

 

Tom looked at Loki’s open hand. “Why did you go at all?”

 

The god sighed. “I  _ will _ explain, but I cannot until you have made your choice.” 

 

“It will influence my decision?”

 

Loki tilted his head. “It might.” 

 

Tom thought. This was almost certainly a dream, but that meant nothing. He’d seen Loki more often in dreams than anywhere else, so he had to treat this like it mattered. These last few months were the most miserable time in his life. His strength, his core of confidence, had abandoned him. Perhaps he could regain that without Loki. Perhaps whatever price the god hinted but would not explain would be great, and he could do this by himself. Alone. But if he did it, if he reached out and took what was offered...

 

He would never be alone again. 

 

The screaming emptiness in his head would go away. His god would fill his entire being. Arrogant and overbearing as he was, Loki completed him. 

 

Tom took Loki’s hand. 

 

Loki poured into his mind like honey and molten metal, scented like the first snowfall of winter, tasting of moonlight and cream. Tom groaned as the void in his mind was filled. Ecstasy, bliss, joy incarnate, distilled into a single moment. It lasted forever. 

 

When Tom opened eyes he hadn’t even realized were closed, Loki was on top of him, straddling his hips, hands on either side of his head. “I have missed you tremendously, my dearest mortal.” 

 

“I…” He had no answer to that. Tom felt  _ alive _ again. He hadn’t simply missed Loki; he’d been  _ dead _ without him. Words that he’d read long ago flooded into his mind. 

 

_ When I am from him, I am dead till I be with him. United souls are not satisfied with embraces but desire to be truly each other... _

 

He pulled Loki to himself and kissed the god. Kissed him with all the desperation born from these months of agony. Kissed him like Tom was held under water and Loki was the air. Kissed as though his life had been restored. “Please don't ever do that to me again.” 

 

“I will not. As long as we both live, I shall be with you.” 

 

The truth of the god’s words resonated inside Tom’s head. After their long parting, he was extra sensitive to the connection. Tom could feel _ everything _ . He felt Loki's hands in his hair both on his scalp and the soft curls against the god's fingers. Where their bodies met was fire and ice and heaven. 

 

They made love in his dreams, Loki filled him, his mind, his body, and Tom felt every inch, every thrust, every caress, and every breath they both made. Loki's thoughts echoed within him, the sensations of the god's body reverberated through his own. 

 

They were one. 

 

Never alone again. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...Ready for It" is by Taylor Swift. I acknowledge that's a bit tasteless, but I like the song a lot and it was appropriate. 
> 
> Tom’s quote is from a piece of Thomas Browne’s _Relgio Medici_ which is referenced in a novel by Dorothy Sayers called _Gaudy Night_ which is one of the finest mystery romances of all time. It took me months to track that stupid quote down and it was even more appropriate than I remembered.


	10. Across the Universe

 

When Tom woke, Loki was in bed with him, curled around his back, arms encircling his torso. The naked god spooned against him as he slept. He breathed softly into the mortal’s hair like a flesh and blood creature, not a dream or hallucination. 

 

They’d never woken together. Loki always left while Tom was sleeping if they were physically together. And when they met in Tom’s dreams the actor always woke up alone. 

 

No longer, it seemed. At least not today. 

 

Tom shifted in Loki’s arms to lay on his back. Loki stirred and opened his eyes. The god blinked sleepily and smiled. “Good morning, my priest. Did you sleep well?” 

 

“Better than I have in months.” 

 

“I am sorry that I had to leave you for so long.” 

 

Tom’s eyebrows went up. He hadn't expected an apology. “Please tell me what happened?” 

 

Loki sighed. “It is a peculiar tale, and a long one.”   
  
“You promised.”   
  


“Indeed I did.” Loki shifted so he was pressed against Tom’s side. “Very well. I shall tell you.” Loki pressed a kiss to Tom’s temple - an oddly affectionate gesture for the god - and continued. “I went to find the source of the lines binding your heart, and it took me beyond our universe into another.”

 

“Another universe?”

 

“Indeed. One where you and I cannot coexist because we are the same person. Or at least that is how it is supposed to work.” 

 

“I don’t understand.” 

 

“Put very simply, I met another Loki who had his own Thomas. Not his priest, but his lover and beloved. They were brought together with magic, but had been cruelly separated by fate. My other self was… devastated.” The god squeezed the mortal carefully. “In his madness and desperation, he threw out lines to find his mortal. They fell through space and time and dimension, and they ensnared you.” 

 

“You mean I was tied to  _ another _ Loki?” 

 

“And to myself as well, since I created you long ago. The threads of my fate are inextricably woven into yours - or so I thought.”  

 

“When you left me…”

 

“Our connection was severed, yes.” Loki looked away, up at the ceiling. “I had no notion that it was even possible, but when I left our universe, it cut us apart somehow. I have travelled between dimensions many times - it is part of my nature - but I have never experienced anything like _ this _ before.” 

 

“What was he like, this other Loki?” Tom asked. 

 

“He was as you portray him in your films, a god of Asgard and Jotunheim.” 

 

“Not like you.” 

 

“No.” Loki smiled. “A far simpler creature than I.” The god breathed against Tom’s neck. “I shall not allow you to be taken from me.”  

 

“You won’t go?”

 

“Never.” 

 

Tom shuddered. He could feel Loki’s power on his skin like dark sunlight. He knew in his bones that Loki was a God, well beyond the limitations of what Tom had portrayed. Not an alien misunderstood to be a god, but a deity in truth. A creature so beyond humanity, so powerful, so majestic, there could be no response other than to worship him. This is what Tom had chosen, to be the avatar; to be his priest. He would accept whatever Loki gave him in return and be grateful for it. That Tom’s God lay in his bed right now… He could only give thanks. 

 

“Loki.” He breathed the name. “Loki, please.” 

 

The green-eyed god pulled himself up to look down at the mortal. “What is it, my priest?”

 

“Let me… let me worship you.” 

 

Loki smiled and traced a finger lightly over Tom’s chest. “You worship me with every breath you take.”

 

“Then tell me how to serve you, raise your power.” 

 

“Oh my priest, those are two very different things.” The god’s voice was low and sweet. “To raise power for me, you will continue your life as it has been. Make the masses love me. Worship my very name, tell my story over and over, call out for me,  _ to _ me, in their fantasies. They will wish to be you, to be me, to be my lover or yours. Or both.” Loki licked his lips and smiled. “They long to be between us, the priest and the god, for  _ us _ to make love to  _ them. _ This you have done for me. So much passion in My Name.” The god moaned, eyes rolling back in his head. “All because of you, my beautiful priest. Oh I chose so very very well.” 

 

Tom swallowed hard. “And how may I serve you?” 

 

“Oh my sweet Thomas, by making those dreams come true.” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Across the Universe" is by the Beatles (you knew that). 
> 
>  
> 
> Did someone say "crossover?"


End file.
